


Love You Like Pancakes

by Kayim



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, F/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's too early and Sam doesn't want to leave her bed.  But temptation is calling her name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love You Like Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt of: Stargate SG-1, Sam/Cam, love you like pancakes

Sam turns over in bed, tugging the covers over her head to avoid the sunlight that is streaming in through the window. She wants to yell at the sun that it's too damn early, but that would involve a certain amount of effort that she just isn't ready to exert.

The patch of bed that she rolls into is cold, evidence that Cameron has already woken up, probably going for a run or something equally insane. Just one of the many differences between them, she thinks to herself as she curls her body around the pillow that still smells a little like him.

It's not been an easy relationship for either of them, but they're working on it, learning to compromise, to work as well together outside the SGC as they do within it.

She can hear Cameron call her name, so tentatively she peeks out from beneath the warm covers.

He calls her name again, closer this time, stretching out the syllables of her full name into a sing-song that makes her smile like a teenager. At work it's always so formal, so serious, even when it's just the two of them. But here, in her house, it's different, more like a proper romance.

He pushes the door open, walking backwards, his hands carrying a large tray that Sam doesn't even recall buying. There is a smell of lemons and Sam finds her mouth watering even before she sees what's on the tray.

"I knew you'd be awake," he says, dropping a kiss on her forehead as casually as if he did this every morning. "I made pancakes."

She doesn't know what to say. No, that's wrong. She knows what she wants to say, but she doesn't know if it's the right time or the right place.

"I love pancakes," she says instead, hoping he understands.

He replies with another kiss, one that lingers a little longer, while his hand slides around the back of her neck and his fingers twist into her hair.


End file.
